Quidditch, Blackmail, and a Little Dose of Felix
by Linnn
Summary: Wheels of blackmail spin - rather out of control, admittedly. Especially when Ginny Weasley finds herself in a sticky situation with a frustratingly desirable blond in possession of her favourite knickers.
1. Truth or Dare with Underwear

**(A/N: First attempt at a short novel-length. Another revamp. Ah. Oh dear. I am a horrible horrible indecisive person who can never. Decide. I'm sorry I took it down. After reading Heart's Cadence's piece I felt so insecure about this yes I know I'm horrible kill me now! To blackstar111 for awesome ideas. Please, please review and tell me what you think! I know it's stupid but when people don't review I get insecure and wonder if I could do better I know just laugh at me haha.)**

**Chapter One: Truth or Dare With Underwear**

Of course, and only at present, it all became clear to Draco why he should never have agreed to play Truth or Dare with a gang of piss drunk Slytherins after midnight. In fact, it really was Dare or Dare, because Blaise Zabini was a crazy alcohol-induced maniac who would bellow, "_DARE! DARE, YOU NANCY BOY!_" each time the question was asked. The bottle stopped spinning, Blaise hiccuped, someone shouted, 'Steal Ginny Weasley's underwear!', and that was how Draco ended up hiding in an alcove by the Gryffindor common room with a 'salvio hexia' over his body.

He sighed and made a mental note never to spend Friday nights in the common room ever again. Merlin, he had a whole Head Boy dorm to himself anyway, and as for the company, that could go by invitation. _Yes_, he smiled, _perfect!_ So he could just hang with Zabini, Nott, Greengrass, Davis, Higgs, the lot... and whoever shouted previously to steal Weasley's underwear could go to hell.

Speaking of which, he thought he'd just heard something move, so he peered around the corner. 'Baubles!' said Ginny Weasley with an apple in her hand, and the portrait swung open to admit her ("Where on earth have you been, it's after curfew!" remonstrated the Fat Lady). Being temporarily invisible had its perks, Draco thought, because in a blink, he had nipped past Ginny and climbed through the portrait hole, lightly brushing her arm in the process.

"Who's there?" she demanded, placing a hand on where he'd touched her. The portrait swung shut, and the common room was quiet except for the soft crackling of the fire in the hearth. 'Harry?' Draco struggled to suppress an almost-snort. What. An. _Insult_. Then he grinned. Since his presence was already noted, no harm beginning what she started...

"_Ginevra._"

She cussed under her breath, stepping back, usually rosy face drained of its colour as her eyes darted around the room like a rabbit alerted of its predator. He watched (with mirth and delight) her face grow white with fear despite her attempt to conceal it. "T-Tom?"

Who the _fuck_ is Tom?

"That's... right. It's me," he fibbed wildly, inwardly wondering if Tom was that... that _servant_ at the Leaky Cauldron. No, that would be stupid. He dismissed the ridiculous thought. Ginny's chocolate eyes widened and, letting her apple fall with a loud thud, she sprinted up the spiral staircase and into her dormitory, with Draco following as quietly as he best could in pursuit without breaking into laughter.

When he reached the overheated mass of flowery pink comforters and sleep-giggling girls most called a dormitory, Draco found the unmistakeable fan of red hair, its owner shaking quite violently under her white cotton covers.

He knelt by her trunk and found a rather suggestive pair of black lacy knickers which, to be honest, was sufficient for his dare of the night. But curiosity beat his discipline to pulp, so he pocketed the underwear and continued rummaging through her possessions, pulling random things out just to scoff at them.

Transfiguration for Dummies, a Sneakoscope, a funny box labelled Puking Pastilles Draco was a bit afraid of, several bottles of nail varnish, rolled up parchments, crushed newspaper cuttings, a badge that said '_SPEW_' whatever that was, honestly did he just see a bloody _carrot_ in that trunk, a various assortment of scarves and Chocolate Frogs along with – oh Merlin. Dear, dear Merlin. He stopped tossing things over, eyes locked to the precious albeit hilarious gem. This one was _truly priceless_.

Mercury eyes glinting with glee, Draco fingered the silky cloth, holding it up as he did so. This. This could be the very highlight of his tyranny at Hogwarts, should he choose to make good use of it. _It was perfect_. There, in front of him, dangling from one refined index finger, was the truth printed in Gryffindor colours. The truth, in the form of a – ah, _unique_ – pair of underwear, because on the crimson material, printed in gold, were the words:

**HARRY POTTER, PULL THIS DOWN!**

**

* * *

**

When muffled laughter filled the area around her four-poster bed, Ginny bolted upright and looked around the room. The whispered 'Ginevra' floated through her mind again and again, and she couldn't help but wonder if Tom Riddle's ghost had come to haunt her – which was insane, because Harry _had_ defeated Voldemort and there was no doubt about that. Just... it was scary, thinking about her first year at Hogwarts.

It was something she had never really triumphed over, something that had often plagued her with nightmares that, thankfully, after Voldemort's death, had become less frequent, but not entirely nonexistent. Shivering slightly, Ginny reached forward and made to draw the curtains around her bed.

Only they wouldn't move.

"What is _wrong_ with this thing?" She gritted her teeth and tugged forcefully, but the end of the curtains near her trunk seemed to have been glued onto the dormitory floor, stubbornly refusing to budge as if someone were sitting on it. Then, with a great heave of breath and one final, determined pull, Ginny managed to yank the curtains free of whatever had weighed it down, at the same time accidentally wrenching it off its hooks so that the entire rod came clattering down noisily and onto something solid. Something... moving, too, Ginny realised with a jolt as she prodded the thing carefully with a toe. Something... almost... _human_.

"_Shit!_" the thing hissed, and began writhing uncomfortably, trying to untangle itself from her fallen curtains.

Demelza Robins made a soft stirring noise from the next four-poster, which shut it up almost immediately. In overwhelming inquisitiveness, Ginny leaned forward to poke at the curtain-covered thing. "Who... what are you?" she breathed softly, watching warily as it moved away. "Wait," she articulated, a little louder, but the thing, looking suspiciously like a boy, had already stood up, curtain draped over his body, and was making his way clumsily down the staircase leading towards the common room.

In a heartbeat, she clambered out of bed and thumped noisily down the stairs, calling out, "_Stop!_ _Who are you?_" as she chased. Whoever he was, he ran fast. "_Wait!_" she cried again, but by the time she reached the fireplace, he had pushed out of the portrait hole, fleeing, with Ginny Weasley's dormitory bed curtains flapping loudly at his ankles.

* * *

The next morning at breakfast, Ginny spooned scrambled eggs into her mouth quietly, all the time wondering who exactly her midnight dormitory intruder was while the others chatted happily. There was a certain jubilant buzz around the Great Hall because it was Friday, and a long-awaited Hogsmeade visit next Sunday was in place, but Ginny was far too bothered by the previous night's incidents to go dizzy excited with the rest.

Yes, she did indeed think to tell the girls, but for some reason unexplainable to even herself, she'd later decided against it – as though something horrible would happen if she related the story of her missing bed curtains to them.

So, as an excuse, all she said was, "Oh, I vanished them by accident." They had believed her, but it was all very perplexing nonetheless.

"Oi Ginny," called Seamus Finnigan from across the table. "Want to go to Hogsmeade with me next Sunday?"

"No," said Ron.

"Yes," said Ginny.

Two seats away, she saw Harry twitch ever so slightly.

Most of the chatter was soon subdued by the morning post, and bundles of letters and packages were released in a great flurry as the owls swooped past their heads, hooting resonantly. In between the milk jug and a bowl of muesli, an envelope addressed to Ginny was slotted swiftly. She picked it up and tore it open.

_Meet me at the spare Charms classroom after dinner today._

Intrigue surged through her. One-lined, written in neat, elegant penmanship, unsigned – Ginny turned it over and scanned the envelope, but to no avail as she found nothing about the sender. The bell rang before she could decide on whether or not a trip to the spare Charms classroom would be wise.

Lessons were, as usual, executed with an abundance of especially fidgety students ready for the weekend; the prattle had gotten so loud once that Professor McGonagall was forced to Transfigure everyone's desks into wild hogs just so they would pay attention. Potions was considerably worse, needless to say.

"Mr Creevey, the instructions clearly state _one strand of troll hair_," said Snape coldly. "You, on the other hand, put in _two_." Colin flared up, chest puffed out like a little bantam cock of a boy. "It wasn't my fault, Graham Pritchard put the other strand in!" The Slytherin boy at the next table merely turned and sneered.

"Even so, Mr Creevey. It says one strand. You should not be letting more than _one strand of troll hair_ enter your cauldron. Five points from Gryffindor."

"Excuse me, Professor Snape," said Ginny angrily, eyes flashing dangerously at the pure unfairness of the situation. "I seem to have lost my _one strand of troll hair_. May I pluck another off your head, sir?"

"Sorry, can't, I've got detention Wednesday evening for two weeks straight," she said, when Hermione asked if they could start Ginny's Transfiguration tuition lessons on Wednesday. "Well..." said Hermione thoughtfully, and nibbled the end of an odd-looking turkey roll tentatively. "I suppose we could start later, but you'll want to begin soon, Ginny."

"Mmhmm." She reached for another chicken wing. If she didn't get a bloody _Acceptable_ for her Transfiguration OWLs, she wouldn't be needing tuition, and if Snape actually _tried_ to act remotely human, she wouldn't be having to postpone Transfiguration tuition just to be stuck in detention when she had better things to d – that reminded her. There was something she needed to do, her brain had been nagging at her all day... she racked her brains – what was it?

Ginny's half-eaten chicken wing lay forgotten on her plate as she left in the direction of the spare Charms classroom.

**(A/N: Do a good deed and review, won't you? Thank you for reading, please tell me what you think!)**


	2. Stipulation

**(A/N: Rawr I think I'm down with a fever. Regardless of whether it's good or bad, please do let me know what you think? Oh, I've recently joined The DG Forum. Heh heh if you're reading this, you probably should too, fantastic people!)**

**Chapter 2: Stipulation**

_Meet me at the spare Charms classroom after dinner today._

"In a bit of a hurry, aren't you?" Ginny heard a male voice complain, when she accidentally knocked into a hard shoulder.

Blaise Zabini looked at her rather bluntly, slightly annoying her.

"Well if you weren't so busy posing, you would've noticed my coming," she defended.

He laughed. "Calm down. You've got sauce on your face, just so you know."

Surprised that a Slytherin had informed her of it in an almost friendly manner, Ginny swiped at her cheek before looking at him curiously.

"You aren't very Slytherin today, Zabini," she observed, but he didn't seem to hear her, instead looking around her to raise a hand in acknowledgment.

"Oi, Theo," called Blaise. Theodore Nott, with a head of chestnut hair, eyes of a robin's egg blue, and a book in his hand, had just walked out of the Great Hall and was making his way to his friend. "Out so early?"

"Library," replied Theo coolly.

"Again? Come on," Blaise groaned.

"No doubt this concept is new to you, but I've heard a 'school' is for education. I may be wrong, though, just a gut feeling," he rejoined easily, giving the slightest hint of a smile.

Blaise rolled his eyes. "I'll never understand why," he grumbled exasperatedly, but Ginny thought it very likely that Theodore Nott spent most of his free time in the library, being a quiet genius and all. _How un-Slytherin of him_, she mused, almost smiling.

Theo turned to Ginny, who realised she probably looked a bit odd, staring at them in such a manner. He nodded politely in greeting, then made for the staircase to the library with Blaise in his wake. Ginny gaped.

"By the way, Weasley," said Blaise over his shoulder, mere paces away. "You'll find some Slytherins aren't all they're cracked up to be. Better not get your _knickers_ in a twist."

"Yeah," she said lamely, watching the pair walk away. Had two Slytherins just been... actually _civil_ to her? And what exactly did Blaise mean, emphasizing on 'knickers'?

Ginny shuddered. Slytherins? Civil? The world must be ending.

And how right she was to think that.

* * *

"Draco Malfoy, I demand that you - "

"I don't think you're in any position to _demand_, Weasley." Draco stretched his lithe arms lazily behind him.

This was going well. It was well past curfew, because he made it a point to be late, but Ginny had gotten his letter, turned up at the classroom, and was now very well aware of the treasure he possessed.

He smirked shamelessly, only to see her eyes grow hard with fury.

Ginny uncrossed her arms and strode towards her infuriating companion.

"Look, _ferret_," she hissed, ruby hair falling over to frame her pretty face. "I don't know why your life is such a piece of _shit_ that you have to steal my things and run off in my bloody curtains but if you don't give it back, I _promise_, that smug look will be wiped off of your stuck-up, perfect little face in a matter of seconds."

"Oh, you want your curtains back, do you? Should have known, you're probably too poor to afford more than one set."

She fumed. "You know what I want, Malfoy! Give it _back_!"

Ignoring her, he leaned forward, propping his elbows on the desk.

"You can start by ignoring Potter for a whole week. Just because I know you're so besotted with him."

"Excuse me?"

"Ah, and for good measure, you can also make sure that Slytherin win the next Quidditch match against Gryffindor."

Ginny stared at the self-satisfied blond who was standing up gracefully from the termite-eaten chair, and scoffed.

"Please. What exactly are you getting at, Malfoy? Why in Merlin's name would I _ever_ want to do all that for - "

She was silenced harshly the knickers he pulled out from his robes, for the second time that night.

"_This,_ is why, Ginny Weasley," he drawled, expression that of feigned innocence. "Silence is golden. Red and golden, in your case," he added wryly. "Which is why I'm sure you don't want me telling – or showing – the whole of Hogwarts what we have here."

He pocketed the underwear cheerfully, and Ginny snarled.

"You're blackmailing your way through."

He remained contemptuous.

"Well, I _was_ sorted into Slytherin for a rea – _PROTEGO_!" Draco shouted, as he blocked the Bat Bogey Hex Ginny had quite stealthily sent hurtling his way.

"_Rather cunning, aren't you?" _He questioned, half annoyed and half incredulous.

She glared. "Don't you dare lecture me about _playing fair_ or whatnot, Malfoy," she took a step closer, russet eyes boring hatefully into his own silver ones.

"I didn't," he interrupted softly. He held her wrist gently, and laughed. "I was just about to tell you how very Slytherin of you that was."

Ginny wrenched her hand away from his grasp and turned to walk out of the door.

"Stay away from me, Malfoy."

* * *

And the soft but unmistakeable '_meow_' came from behind them.

Both were only halfway down the corridor when they turned to see Mrs Norris and froze, her amber eyes looking steadily at them.

"Where, my sweet?" Draco heard Filch croon from around the corner, so he shoved Ginny into an alcove roughly, leaping in after her to make sure they'd both be unseen.

"I have no _space_," she whispered angrily.

"Shut up," he hissed.

They stood for a while in silence, bodies pulled flush against one another, soft breathing growing short. She was flustered, he noticed with amusement, looking up, down, left, right, his ear, his cheek, his eyebrow, anywhere but into his eyes. _Well_, he thought, _something would have to be done about that_.

Carefully, he snaked an arm across her waist, letting his hand rest on the small of her back. At the pressure, she tensed.

"Closer," he murmured into her forehead. "We might get caught."

She went numb, breath catching in her throat, yet pink-tinged face determined not to show any emotion at all. He lowered his mouth to the side of her face, lips grazing teasingly, breath hot and heavy in her ear. "You don't want that to happen, do you, Weasley?" He added softly. She didn't even realise it when she let out a soft, almost inaudible moan. Despite himself, Draco felt his mouth twitch into a smile. But when she gathered the resolve to look up squarely into his eyes, he felt his insides turn; and there was something in her gaze that was completely foreign to him; something that almost scared him.

He pushed away abruptly.

Covering up for his sudden action, Draco leaned back and leered, watching her confused face colour with indignation. She backed herself up against her side of the wall, making sure that she was as far away from him as was possible. "Wrong move, Malfoy," she spat, and a look of distaste was flashed his way.

"They can't be far, my pet." The signal of Filch's arrival broke their grudging stare-down.

Draco held his breath, keeping as quiet as possible when the caretaker drew nearer, at the same time forcing himself not to think of Ginny's nervous face, her soft rosebud lips... _for goodness sake_, he admonished his mind, _she's a Weasley_. Of course he had hopes of being undiscovered, but he soon found out the conniving little weasel had something else in mind.

Any second now, Filch would find them. Any second.

"B-b-but Mr M-Malfoy," he heard Ginny stammer loudly when Filch was within earshot. Draco whipped around to stare at her, appalled. _What on earth was she up to?_

"I duh-don't... I-I can't have sex with you..." Her tone was scared, vulnerable. "It's p-past curfew, and I... I n-need to get back to Gryffindor Tow-w-wer."

His eyes grew huge. No. _No_. How dare she. That... that bloody... _outrageous_ bint... how could she...

"_You witch, what do you think you're - _"

"N-no, p-p-please, please let me g-go!" Ginny cried even louder in feigned helplessness, smiling sweetly at him as she did so, and he practically saw the words "Revenge, my friend, is de-fucking-licious" in her mischievous eyes.

"_WHO'S THERE?_" Filch rounded in on them, absorbing the compromising position the pair were in. "_Malfoy_, what are you doing to that girl?"

Ginny heaved a sigh of relief. "Thank _goodness_ you're here, Mr Filch!" she batted her eyelashes sorrowfully.

No. He could not believe her. It was completely _mental_.

"I – I – No, she's lying," began Draco feebly (and quite uncharacteristically), but Filch was dismissive, signaling for her to return to Gryffindor Tower while he took care of the situation.

"Now be on your way, Weasley, before I change my mind!" Ginny backed away.

"_Malfoys,_" he spat, turning to Draco.

Draco spluttered and choked in a futile attempt to explain himself – he was innocent! That stupid little Gryffindor had _Slytherin-ly_ framed him, had heartlessly pushed him into the simmering cauldron of trouble!

"I have nothing to do with this!" he exploded, but was immediately silenced by the aggravated Squib.

"You think I haven't come across this before? The second pair I've seen tonight, all you _horridious_ teenagers – Head Boy, too – you _come with me! Now!_"

Furious thoughts clogged his head. He would flash her damn knickers in front of the whole school, first thing on Sunday morning. Only because Saturdays were his '_me_' days, where he spent an entire day in his dorm either sleeping, finishing up his homework, reading a good book, swimming in the Black Lake – whatever struck his fancy.

And _that_ he would not let the she-weasel change, just to prove how little she meant to him.

Just to prove that she meant nothing at all.

He watched the filthy little redhead walk away from him with a spring in her step and a swing in her hips. As he was marched away by Filch and his silly cat, Draco could've sworn he saw her turn back ever so slightly, throwing a playful wink his way.

* * *

"So. How did the blackmailing session go?" The sentence was accompanied by a bemused grin.

"Gods, Blaise. She's mental. She's fucking _mental._" Draco unknotted his tie and threw it onto his bed, sinking down into an armchair next to Blaise Zabini. "I had my fun with her. Then Filch came. She spouted some crap like 'no, Malfoy, please don't rape me!' then _bam_, I landed detention. What kind of rot is that?"

Blaise sat up, awed.

"That girl's got skills, mate," he concurred incredulously. "Did he report to Snape or was it one of his quiet, scrub-my-floors-for-me-cause-I'm-a-Squib punishments?"

Draco laughed shortly. Somehow, despite his like for privacy and alone-time, being with his best friend always seemed to cheer him up. In a non-sappy, non-emotional way, of course.

"Snape. Lucky. I'm going to murder that bitch, though." He glanced around his dorm aimlessly. "Where's Theo?"

"Library," rejoined Blaise. "Been spending an awful lot of time there, the bloody nerd." Nodding, Draco seemed to consider this carefully.

"You know," said Blaise with a characteristic gleam in his eye. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you _did_ have 'your fun' with her... in more than one sense of the phrase, if you know what I mean." He raised an eyebrow at Draco meaningfully.

"No, I don't," he replied coolly.

Blaise stood up. "Pity," he chuckled, stepping out of the room. "You should see the look on your face, man. One would've thought 'fun' has been taken to a whole new level, eh?"

Tentatively, Draco caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. _No,_ he assured himself. _It's all rot. Nothing but rot._

Nevertheless, he cast a mildly disturbed glance towards the closed door.

_And what ridiculous rot it is, too._

**(A/N: Yes? No? Please; you all know how reviews work wonders! Should the chapters be longer/shorter, more action-packed, what? And thank you for reading this far, you are lovely.)**


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